


The Flying Fish Bakery

by thescyfychannel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Blow Jobs, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Choose Your Own Adventure, Choose Your Own Ending, Couch Sex, Counter Sex, Edgeplay, Edging, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Multi, Nook Fingering (Homestuck), Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Public Blow Jobs, Quickies, Semi-Public Sex, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 19:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20102188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: Having a daily special is always a good way to bring it customers, but some of them are pickier than others! Hm...wonder who would likethisfor a treat...





	1. The Bakery Board

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chrometome_hatter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrometome_hatter/gifts).

> "Go buck wild my friend, I'm personally out of ideas. So I'd like to see yours!"
> 
> thank you!! your prompts sparked some other inspiration, too...

There's a bakery in the heart of the city that still manages to be a little off the beaten path. To get there, you need to duck down an alleyway that looks like it's some kind of road to an enchanted forest (people keep tossing dead and dying plants in there, and they keep coming back), take a left turn, and then follow your nose.

Or you can happen to pass by the mouth of the alley right when a tray's coming out of the oven. That's a surefire way to know where to go.

It's run by Feferi Peixes, who's got a track record for putting out sweets that cater to a wide range of very, _very_ different folks...

======> BE FEFERI PEIXES

Okay! You're doing pretty well with the baking today, but there's always gotta be a draw. Like, for instance, you make most of the same things _every_ day, but you're a fan of putting some of them on special, on occasion! It's a good way to pull in regulars coming back for a discount on their old favorites _and_ potential customers who want to try something new.

Which brings you to the big question of the day: What goes on the specials board?

[==> TAIYAKI, 20% OFF (and you'll add a cute little picture of a bite taken out of the tail)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20102188/chapters/47617537)

[==> TART CHERRY TARTS, 3 FOR $1 (and you'll draw little stacks made out of them)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20102188/chapters/47617720)

[==> CARAMEL BLONDIES, $5 FOR ONE DOZEN (and you'll turn them into a neat little border around the edges)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20102188/chapters/47630230)

[==> COCONUT RUM CAKE, BUY ONE GET ONE FREE (and you'll draw them squeezing into a cake box)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20102188/chapters/47617579)

[==> BUTTERSCOTCH PIE, COMES WITH A FREE CUP OF COFFEE (and you'll have them next to each other on a little café table)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20102188/chapters/47630203)


	2. EXCUSE YOU??

#  **USE THE LINKS, FUCKASS.**


	3. ==> TAIYAKI, 20% OFF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan stops in for his favorite treat and ends up with more than he expected.

Taiyaki Day almost certainly means a visit from Eridan Ampora, and like every other one, he does not disappoint. A shy glance around the corner of the door, just to make sure no one else is in, then he slips through and flips the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. You'd have a complaint or two about that, if you didn't understand the kind of pressure he was under and attention he got, and if it weren't for the fact that he makes a habit of buying out almost your entire display.

Actually, scratch that. You'd like to tease him today.

"Morning, Eridan! Come on, silly, I'm not on break yet." Your fins flick at him in a cheerful wave, but that's not enough to rid him of the violet blush—Eridan Ampora knows you _very_ well, and on the rare days you make him flip the sign back around, well.

He knows what it means.

But he still obeys all the same—then practically bolts for your counter. "Fef, c'mon, I've got a meetin to get to, are you really gonna play this game with me?"

"Yep," you inform him, and tug him behind the register. "Haven't changed it since the last time, you know how everything works."

"That doesn't make me feel _better_," he complains, his last interjection before he's distracted by the sight of you going down to your knees and grabbing at his belt. Eridan's fins do this cute little thing when he's flustered, a flick-flutter that you've become thoroughly acquainted with.

"Fef, _fuck_." is the next thing you hear out of him, and that's only after you've worked his pants open and run your tongue up the length of his sheath. You've always been a fan of his tendency to nearly unfurl right into your mouth when he's aroused enough, and you take advantage of it now, sucking his bulge down and looking up at him with as much innocence and good will as you can muster.

Your favorite part, though, you think—you _know_—is that he was a few seconds from fisting both hands in your hair and fucking your throat, and that's _exactly_ when the bell over your shop door jingled. Timing is a beautiful thing.

Your innocent look gets a shade too smug to maintain the pretence, but Eridan swiftly rearranged his expression into something like it. "Uh—hey there, how may I help you. We've got a special on taiyaki today?"

"No thank you, young man. I prefer to _peruse_ the display case!" Ah, Mrs. Kimber. She's a lively one. Talkative, too. Poor bastard's really in for it.

"Right, a'course—" You catch a glimpse of his knuckles going a shade or two lighter as he braces on the counter. Might've been the way your mouth brushed his sheath, or maybe the two fingers stroking over his nook in time with the motion of your head. Any number of things, really.

You can hear her hemming and hawing, and you're assuming her eyes are firmly fixed on the display case because Eridan's finally allowing himself to show a reaction. His fins have a damn lovely flush and flutter when he lets himself get into it, and it's all you can do to keep your purr muted enough that the lovely troll looking over your selection won't overhear.

"Alright, I've got it!" You don't know what she's got, but you do get to see a moment of panic flash over Eridan's expression before he masters it yet again, essaying a smile at the customer. "I'll get myself a water on the way out."

"Of course, miss," he says, and you tune the rest of the smalltalk out, wrapping your finger and thumb around the base of his bulge and pulling yourself _almost_ all the way off—far enough that you can feel the tip of him dragging itself over your tongue, leaking slurry all the while—then let go.

One fun fact about Eridan Ampora: His bulge has more of a mind of its own than the bulges of most trolls, a tendency he's never fully managed to correct.

Case in point, the way it shoves itself back down your throat and makes him—and you—choke. You'd been expecting it, though, so you're faintly amused and working at him harder, while he has to fend off concerned questions. Score one Team Peixes!

The moment Mrs. Kimber leaves the store, though, he's glaring down at you. "Fef, I fuckin _swear_—no, you know what?" You'd been about to pull off, the better to trade come backs with him, but his hands twist into your curls and he hauls you all the way back down. "You're staying _right_ there until I'm done with you."

Whoops. You really should've seen that one coming.


	4. ==> TART CHERRY TARTS, 3 FOR $1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vriska takes advantage of her favorite standing offer.

Tart Cherry Tart days are one of your favorites, actually. Whenever you've got a particular hankering for something _sour_, well. It's a lovely little treat for yourself, Tart Cherry Tart days.

The first one hadn't been, of course. You were never a fan of those jackasses who wanted a taste test of _everything_ then left without buying a godsdamn thing, but Vriska Serket, she was a special case. At least, once you'd kicked her ass and sorted a thing or two out.

After all, even if she was a bitch, she damn well knew how to use her mouth.

Half past the start of your lunch break, the door jingles. From your perch in the back room, you roll your eyes. You'd given up on changing the locks after the fifth time Serket had broken in on Tart Cherry Tart day, just to prove that she could, but it was still a shade of annoying that leaned decidedly black. "Little bit late today, aren't you?"

"It's not like you've got a new recipe out or anything," she calls back. She's probably over by the case, examining things. "Ooh, mango cheesecake?"

"If you want one, we're going to have a very different conversation."

Vriska scoffs, leaning around the door to look you over. "I'd complain about you not giving your favorite customer a break, but then you had to go and wear something like _that._ How did you know I have a thing for thigh highs, Peixes?"

"Because you conspicuously left several suggestions in the box. Signed in your hemohex. And smiley faces with eight eyes."

"Ah, well," she says, sauntering over towards you. "Probably should've been less obvious!"

"The bar has never been lower," you deadpan, then haul her down for a kiss. "Do you want your cherry tart or not?"

That expression on her face, no matter how pretty it might be, _never_ bodes well. "Oh, definitely," she purrs, then drops down on the ground and hauls you forward, just over her face.

"Uhm—"

"_Feferi!_" Vriska sounds absolutely scandalized, and even though you know she's faking it, your face goes pink. "Skipped underwear, hm? Just for me?"

"Shut up," you tell her, twisting your hands into her mess of hair and dragging her mouth up against you. "Either you get started, or you get out, and I mean it, there would be absolutely no dessert for you!"

"You know, it's cute when you try to pretend you don't want this as much as I do," she says, or at least you _think_ she says that, because it's pretty muffled, especially once you pin her head down by the horns and grind your nook over her mouth.

Oh, well. It's a pretty even trade.


	5. ==> CARAMEL BLONDIES, $5 FOR ONE DOZEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk vents some steam and thoroughly enjoys himself in the hour before the bakery's officially opened.

Whatever sixth sense Dirk Strider's abilities afford him, you would dearly love to know why he puts a chunk of it (and precisely how large that chunk is) towards monitoring your specials board.

No sooner than you've drawn the last stroke of the N in DOZEN and started drawing the little border pattern of caramel blondies than is he standing behind you, reading the sign that you're crouched down to draw. It's uncanny. It's unrealistic.

It's also the reason you absolutely refuse to flip your sign from CLOSED to OPEN until you've finished dealing with him. He's already enough trouble on his own, you wouldn't want to add customers on top of it.

You look up at him. He looks down at you. You heave an overdramatic sigh and stand up to dust off your knees, completely ignoring the hand he's offered you. "Oh, _fine._ But it better not be like last time!"

It is so, _so_ much worse than last time.

Dirk spends the first ten minutes _rearranging_ things, then the next three carefully folding one of your spare tablecloths to cover the space your hips (and therefore slurry) would go on the makeshift bed he's created by pushing two of your couches together, then _finally_ spreads you out comfortably (after another five minutes of meticulous arranging) and starts easing your bulge out of its sheath.

And when he's finally, _finally_ gotten you _completely_ convinced that he's not going to pull any of his usual shit, when you're momentarily grateful that you trimmed your claws _before_ you ripped your sofas, when he's three fingers deep in your nook with his other hand around your bulge, he starts talking about _fucking politics._

"—and it's a pity, really. I'd assumed that Karkat's influence over Dave would have ended once he turned down Dave's plan and Dave decided to run on his own, but apparently, I was completely wrong. Dave's gunning for the Troll Will Smith nomination, now, which has Jane in a kerfuffle about the whole thing." You're about to interject, maybe attempt to bite his hand off or break his jaw, when he _twists_ his fingers inside of you and you instead have to focus on trying to rock down as much as he'll allow (when the _fuck_ did he manage to tie you up??). "Even though it wouldn't do her much good. I have to hand it to him, Dave has a phenomenal knack for distracting her from the issues. It's a pity they couldn't work out their beef in a more functional way. Trollish, you know how it is."_  
_

Actually, you do. Intimately. _Immediately._ "Dirk, for _fuck's sake_," you say, and attempt to twist your bulge out of his grip. If he's not going to pail you, you'll take care of it yourself.

"Nope," he replies, and pins your bulge down. Your response—a furious snarl—is cut off sharply when he holds up a bulge ring. Oh, no. Oh hell fucking no. He wouldn't _dare._ "Don't think I said you were allowed to finish yet."

"You're going to a special kind of hell," you tell him, and that's about the only coherent thing you manage to say for the next while.

Looks like you'll be opening a little late today. Thank god you drew all the shades.


	6. ==> COCONUT RUM CAKE, BUY ONE GET ONE FREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat receives a reminder about the importance of customer service.

You've never really minded that this is Karkat's second job, and that his hours are weird and in fairly short bunches. Usually you can badger him into making sure he covers for you on days you absolutely can't work, or comes in when you know you're going to need an extra set of hands.

Of course, part of the reason you don't mind is because it gives you more opportunity to troll him. Like, for instance, with his favorite cake. "I'm pretty sure the only time you put that discount up on the board is when I have a shift," he'd once grumbled, "during which time, you usually give my desserts to me for _free._" He was absolutely right, of course, but you weren't going to admit to that then and you still wouldn't now.

You would, however, haul his ass back into the stockroom before he offends anyone else and loses you another sale. "Give us a moment, please! We're going on a break, thank you, be back soon!" Chipper and cheerful lasts until the door closes behind you, because he is getting on your _last_ nerve and the second he turns towards you with a snarl you're right up in his face.

The speed at which his expression changes might be considered, well, _alarming_, but you're pretty used to all of his mood swings. Also, you're fairly used to people suddenly thinking the better of challenging you when they remember that you're a fucking tyrian.

"Feferi—"

"Nope." You're careful not to rip his pants, but that's only because he has yet to replace the backup pants he usually leaves here after the last time you ripped his pants. "I don't want to hear it, Vantas. Understood?"

"But," he tries, and then "_oh_" because he's always very vocal when you shove a bulge right up his nook. It's a good thing for him you were wearing a skirt today; impatience tends to make you harsher with him than strictly fair. "I, I just—Feferi, you _know_ he's the best option to get this bill the support that it needs, and the bill desperately needs some support—"

"If you're still talking, I'm not doing this right." Both of his legs up, then, his back against the cold wall and his knees practically hooked over your shoulders as you drive deeper into him. _Probably a good thing he wore a button down,_ you muse, as you unbutton it enough that his writhing bulge won't stain it too badly. "And if you're thinking about Troll Will Smith while I fuck you, you're _definitely_ fired."

"You're a terrible boss—Feferi _fuck_, okay, yes, please, please do that again—"

You roll your eyes and definitely do that again, not even bothering to hide your amusement at the absolute stream of pleasured babbling it pulls out of him. "The absolute worst, I'm shore!"


	7. ==> BUTTERSCOTCH PIE, COMES WITH A FREE CUP OF COFFEE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cronus drops by for a taste of his favorite treat.

You don't put butterscotch pies on your special board nearly as often as you make them, for several good reasons. For one, almost everyone knows that you make them, or will make them on request, and for two, well...you have a specific, _special_ customer who tends to take your "BUTTERSCOTCH PIE, COMES WITH A FREE CUP OF COFFEE" advertisement as an invitation for something else entirely. Comes with a free cup of _Feferi,_ more like.

But, well, uh. Sometimes people just, you know. Got a craving for something they didn't usually have. Or something like that. Baking...flavors...nostalgic tastes...either way! There was totally an explanation for why, at least once a month, your signboard advertised the sweet taste of butterscotch in pie form, and also a cup of coffee to cut the sugar.

And also, maybe, _theoretically_, an invitation for a certain troll to drop by as well.

Cronus Ampora saunters in like he owns the place, even though _most_ days he's running deliveries to your store (you're still not sure if that's what he does for a living, or if he's trying to fuck with you, or some nebulous third answer that he's still absolutely refusing to give to you straight) and it's sheer bad luck that you're in the back when he does. _In the back_ means less in the way of limitations on his strategy, means he can press you up against the counter and nuzzle at the back of your fin until your hands are curling into fists on top of the counter, means—

To start with, it means he's already _won_, the smug bastard.

Hands just a bare shade warmer than yours slip up your skirt and tug your underwear down just enough that his bulge can roll against your nook, and you squirm. Shit, he'd better not, but you already know he _would_, and you drop your voice to a whisper. "Cro, I still have customers out there—"

"That's what makes it fun, doll," he tells you, and shoves his bulge deep, in a way that makes your back curve and your toes curl. "Now relax, alright? You must really need this if it's the second time this month."

You're going to kick his ass for that comment. But, you know.

Later.

**Author's Note:**

> happy drone season!


End file.
